


(Relatively) Good Things

by khooliha



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Gen, nail care, sibling stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:19:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6023356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khooliha/pseuds/khooliha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story serves as a coda for Those Who Wait.</p>
    </blockquote>





	(Relatively) Good Things

**Author's Note:**

> This story serves as a coda for Those Who Wait.

Many years later they were throwing themselves into a car with blackout windows, running from gunfire and a great wave of hissing. Seth ended up behind the wheel, even though it wasn’t his car, not remotely – this was just their flow, even after months apart. Ritchie, riding shotgun, swiped a hand across his temple, smearing the blood seeping from a fast healing gash, an attempted face removal that he had only just avoided. Something in the movement caught Seth’s eye, even amidst the terror and the fleeing. 

“Shit-“

“Richard.” His brother stopped fiddling with the sun shade mirror, and Seth watched him, blood drying in streaks on the side of his face, scales shifting back to skin. Ritchie was frowning, or at least Seth thought he was. Maybe he was projecting. Some things came back easy, natural; some things didn’t. That did. 

Without taking his eyes from the road Seth waggled his right hand at Ritchie, wordless. The tension drained out of his brother and he held his hand out, nearly resting it on the dash, letting Seth see it easily while driving. Ritchie’s nails were painted with their usual care, but the color was a deep red, nearly black, and far too serious for those hands. 

“Santanico doesn’t share your taste, huh? If you can call it that.” 

Ritchie withdrew his hand with a theatrical sigh. “No, not at all. Her supply is running low though, so I’m hoping we can diversify soon.” He slouched further into the seat and rubbed his temple again, over the newly healed skin. You could almost think his nails were simply coated in his own dried blood. It didn’t seem right. 

“Hopefully soon,” Seth said, sounding darker than he felt. Too serious for what they were talking about, but it felt important for a reason he couldn’t quite grasp. His adrenaline was crashing and the moment was losing its clarity. 

“Well, she isn’t really a fan of bumming around convenience stores.” 

“What is she a fan of?” 

Ritchie cocked his head and considered the world outside the tinted windows. “Other than revenge? Not much, at the moment.” 

“Give it time,” Seth offered, knowing how ridiculous his advice sounded. “And please get your own stuff – it’s fucking weirding me out to see you in something so dark.” 

Ritchie splayed his hands out again, considering them himself. “You think so too?” 

“Don’t get me wrong, it still looks nice-“

“They all look nice, brother.” 

“Would you shut up?” Distantly Seth realized that this was something typical for them, something old and familiar, strain burned away under the sun of a lifetime together. 

Ritchie ignored Seth’s irritation as easily as he ever had. “I’m thinking of grabbing the worst green I can find. Something really obnoxious.” 

“You would know obnoxious,” Seth said, not quite managing to stop his smile. 

Ritchie turned to him with a familiar intensity. “I just figure I ought to commemorate my first color in 3 years with some fanfare. Jump in with both feet.” 

“I think I saw some stuff that glows under UV lights. Blue, I think. Kinda minty?” 

Ritchie’s eyes lit up behind his glasses. “Sounds perfect. Think we could make a quick stop?” 

“Not a fucking chance Ritchie. Besides, Christmas is coming up and I gotta get you something other than pinky mice.” 

“You’re very funny Seth, you know that? You’ve always been so very funny.” 

Outside the sun began to come up, hazy behind the darkened glass, completely ignored by a pair of Geckos, who were too busy discussing the bounds of good taste to notice it. 


End file.
